


Star Shadow

by Mr Son (MrSon)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:23:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSon/pseuds/Mr%20Son
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was made of the shadows behind the stars.</p><p>He was alone.</p><p>(Note to the Yogscast: Do not read any of my fics on stream.)<br/>(I do not support the Yogscast company. I write because I enjoy the characters.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Shadow

=== === ===

He was made of the shadows behind the stars.  
He drifted a long time, in the space between realities, playing with the edges of universes.

He was alone.  
He'd never felt the presence of others, no one called out to Him in the void.

He was bored, at first.  
He learned to tug at the fabric of the emptiness, making little universes, baby realities to join those already swirling around Him.

He loved to create.  
The worlds He made grew bigger and more elaborate, and He began adding motion and patterns, until each universe was a cosmic dance of twisting nebula and scattered galaxies, and within those were planets and suns and streaking comets and a billion other beautiful details for Him to watch and enjoy.

And then something changed.

He supposed He'd just gotten too elaborate one day. Perhaps He'd twisted wrong when plucking a black hole into place, or set the size of a sun wrong causing it to go nova early, or any number of small, simple mistakes. Or maybe it hadn't been a mistake at all, but simply the result of so many complicated elements interacting in unpredictable ways.

He had been considering leaving this world early. It had been so similar to the last one, and He wanted to make something different. But as He was thinking it over, He felt a pulse of energy He hadn't planned from somewhere near the edges of the universe, in one of the plainer and less interesting galaxies. Drifting in to take a look, He barely managed to see the hole before it closed. An opening to somewhere outside any of His own creations. The rift in the void sealed quickly, before He could look through to see where it had connected, but it left something behind.

Little beings, things that moved and changed and interacted in ways that had nothing to do with His designs. Things that dug away at his carefully sculpted worlds, and then, before He could get properly angry, began building. Building things to live in, things to wear, things to use to in turn make other things.

Hanging over the creatures, He watched as they grew in number, making ever larger and more complicated buildings and clothes and tools, and he found himself growing fond of them. They were different, and they were alive. As small and fragile as they were, he felt less alone with them there.

Soon, there came to be so many that He stopped watching them all, and began focusing on small groups that splintered away from the rest. Five here, seven there, a lone one by itself. And He began shrinking himself. It wasn't simple, but it wasn't hard, either. He compressed His being into a smaller and smaller space, until He was as dense as the physical matter from which He made His creations.

And Ridgedog appeared before them, and spoke to them for the first time.

Ridgedog found it an endless delight, playing with the humans. They were so unpredictable, so unlike the swing of a planet falling into place around a sun, or the burst of a supernova going off right on schedule. He could set them all up and demand they accomplish a task, and he'd never know in advance how they'd react. Some even got angry and tried to defy him; it was wonderful!

But the real delight were the ones who not only defied Ridgedog, but managed to slip his grasp, even if only for a moment. In the smaller, condensed form he used to interact with humanity, Ridgedog could no longer be everywhere at once, could no longer see an entire galaxy as a whole. He could be tricked, fooled, hidden from. He loved it. Every moment of it. Almost.

Ridgedog didn't love it when one of his favorites vanished without a trace, and he couldn't find them again. Humans had such short lives, and it was too simple for one to die while he was still searching. Such fragile, ephemeral lives. It was frustrating and it was saddening. And the sorrow only angered him. His love grew bitter and controlling. If they were so fragile, he would turn that very fragility into his entertainment.

He would force them into combat, make them feel some fraction of the loss he felt when they died. He would make them face harsh challenges together, then kill their own companions. The winners could be thrown away, or cast into the arena again. And again. Until they understood how horrible death was. Until they realized how much he hated their weakness. Their mortality.

As all things did though, this too grew stale. Humans were so variable in life. Each a delicate spark of change and uniqueness. But in death, they were all the same, and he grew bored. He held his games of combat and death less and less often.

One day, during the finals of a tournament, he turned and walked out, leaving the two injured combatants standing there, bleeding and confused.

\--- --- ---

Ridgedog was sitting in a grassy field, watching the sunset shine off a pillar of cobblestone someone had left on a nearby hill. It no longer had a purpose, having been abandoned after the builder had used it to get the lay of the land. It remained, slowly crumbling and growing moss, only a reminder that once someone had been there and wanted a pillar in that spot.

Behind him came a soft rustling noise in the grass as someone walked up behind him. He didn't bother turning, already knowing who it would be.

"Hey, Ridge." Xephos offered a greeting, before dropping down to sit beside him.

Ridgedog nodded, just a fraction of a motion, enough to let Xephos know he was acknowledged.

For several minutes, neither said a word. Ridgedog took the time to wonder what Xephos thought of the pillar. Did he dismiss it as yet another ugly 'nerd pole', as the humans tended to call them? Or did he understand the poignancy of the forsaken construction?

Ridgedog was surprised when the moment was broken by Xephos pulling something out of his coat pocket. He held it up in front of Ridgedog in offering.

"Cookies?"

Ridgedog looked down at the small box in puzzlement, before lifting his hand and taking it softly from Xephos. "Are these from your factory?"

Xephos shook his head. "We were baking cookies for our friends yesterday, and I realized this morning that we'd forgotten you. So I made an extra batch this afternoon. I didn't know what kind you liked, though. I hope chocolate chip is good."

Ridgedog turned the box over in his hands, feeling the smooth surface, still warm from being in Xephos' pocket. He set it down on his lap and looked back at the pillar a moment.

"Why do you do that?"

Xephos frowned. "What, bake cookies? It's actually pretty fun."

"No." Ridgedog waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the pillar. "I meant... That pillar there, it's understandable. They wanted to be higher, so they make something to stand on." Not a problem Ridgedog had ever had, but humans had their limitations. In this, they were predictable. "Why do you make things only to give them away?"

Xephos's frown deepened for a moment, then melted into consideration. "Well, it's... It's nice to make people happy, when you care about them." Xephos' eyes softened as a small smile grew on his face. "It's... it's nice. To be able to make your friends happy. To see them liking something you made."

"Is it?" Ridgedog's hand brushed against the grass he was sitting on, solid starshadow against atoms. He plucked a single strand and held it up in front of him. Under his will, atomic bonds dissolved as gently as sugar into a cup of tea, shifting and changing into a form of Ridgedog's choosing. An elaborate orchid of spun glass grew between his fingers, with a mote of glowstone at its heart. It looked like a drop had fallen from the sunset above them and caught in ice.

"That's beautiful." Xephos' said.

Xephos' smile felt warmer than the sun on Ridgedog's face, and Ridgedog found himself hesitating almost long enough for his companion to actually notice, before he held out the flower with a smile of his own. "It's for you."

Xephos' pause was obvious, but after an agonizing moment, his hand came up and took the flower. He turned it around, looking at it from every angle, before lifting it up and tucking it behind an ear.

"Thanks, Ridge. It's lovely."

Ridgedog leaned in and kissed him.

=== === ===

**Author's Note:**

> Fic idea: Lovely piece on the act of creating and the difference between creating things for yourself vs creating them for others, expressed through both narration and a conversation between Ridgedog and Xephos, ending in sappy Ridgephos.
> 
> Fic as written: Cosmology cosmology cosmology cosmology cosmology evilRidgeangst ABRUPT SWING into Ridgephos fluff, end on a cliffhanger.
> 
> Me: …


End file.
